


Hail Mary

by Angel_Wesson



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Chaptered, Emotions, Gen, Major Plot, Monster of the Week, Plot Twists
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-21
Updated: 2014-11-21
Packaged: 2018-02-26 09:02:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2646071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angel_Wesson/pseuds/Angel_Wesson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean Winchester receive a phone call from an old hunter friend. He shares news of a girl who is presumably being followed by demons. Further investigation yields no evidence, so he moves on to the next case. That is, until he hears news of the same girl attacked in an alley by a man who claims he wasn't in control of his body. When confronted, she asks if he knows the Winchesters, explaining that they're the only ones who can help her. The boys reluctantly agree to take the case. They arrive in Lawrence, Kansas where she is being held for questioning after being found at a crime scene. There they discover a stubborn, young woman who could change their lives forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hail Mary

**Author's Note:**

> This is just the beginning of a rather dramatic story I have conjured up, so keep that in mind while reading. My writing so far includes a major plot line, as well as a couple Monster of the Week chapters. I will continue posting if people seem interested. I want to thank my beta for dealing with my crazy ideas, grammar errors, and emotional distress I have caused her. Okay, I'm done now. Enjoy!  
> -M

A Kansas song plays quietly, accompanied by the purr of the Impala and Sam's soft snoring. Sam rests peacefully, for once, with his head leaned back against the worn leather seat. Dean glances at his little brother then smiles. He looks back to the road and mentally calculates how long it will take them to reach Nebraska. The sharp ring of a cell phone tears through the calm of the car. Sam is startled awake and Dean jumps, grumbling to himself afterwards. Sam jerks open the glove box and digs through their cell phones until he removes a glowing old flip phone.

"Hello?" he answers, voice still gruff from sleep. "Yeah, Bobby's old friend, right?" He rubs his eyes and rests his chin on his hand, mhmming occasionally, then stops suddenly. "You're serious?" Sam scrambles grabbing a pen and looking frantically for something to write on. "Hang on, can you repeat that?"

Dean looks over at his brother, "What is it?" he mouths. Sam shakes his head and continues to listen intently to the caller. Dean purses his lips in annoyance. He leans forward, pulling an old box out from beneath his seat. He sets it next to him and flips through the cassette tape collection. His fingers play over the aged plastic, knowing exactly what tapes he touches just by their texture. The familiar roughness of one tape in particular draws his attention. He plucks it from the rest and ejects the Kansas cassette. He tosses the warm tape back into the box and pushes the new one in. Metallica hums through the speakers softly and Dean visibly relaxes. The guitar and drums soothe his ragged nerves slightly as he looks at his brother, who scribbles on a napkin.

"Alright, yeah. We'll check it out. Thanks." he snaps the phone shut, brow furrowing as he runs his hands through his disheveled hair and stares at the dirty napkin.

Dean clears his throat expectantly.

Sam glares. "That was Stanley Owens, the hunter out of Oregon." Dean nods remembering the rugged old man Bobby had introduced him to back on a hunt in 2004 and Sam continues. "He said a few months back he caught wind of a homeless girl claiming to be followed be demons. He investigated but couldn't find anything. No possessions, no omens, nothing. He couldn't find the girl either. Yet several people claimed to have met her. When he asked about her, the answers were always different. Nothing matched up."

Dean shrugs, "Urban legend?"

"That's what he thought until a few weeks ago, when he heard a news report on presumably the same girl. She had been attacked in an alley. The suspect insisted he wasn't in control of his body and is now in a mental hospital." Sam explains.

Dean checks his blind spot and switches lanes, "Sure sounds like a possession."

"Exactly," Sam agrees. "But the girl refused to press charges. So that makes it seem like she knew her attacker wasn't the one really attacking."

Dean is quiet for a while then squints questioningly, "I don't get what this has to do with us. We're already on a job, why doesn't Stanley just take this one?"

Sam sighs, "He was going to. But when he got there he said it took him forever just to track her down and once he finally did, she knew immediately that he was a hunter. She was hiding, and well. Apparently she had devil's traps everywhere and had salted the doors and windows in the old barn she was holed up in. He said she asked for us by name. When he went back a day later for more information she was already gone without a trace." Sam tries to mask his smile, though he is clearly enjoying the mystery.

"What the hell?" Dean says, shocked. "Who is she? How does she know us?"

"Stanley said her name is Jamie Smith. I've never heard of her before. But get this, she's in Lawrence." Sam stops and watches as the information sinks in with his brother.

Dean's eyebrows raise, "Well son of a bitch. You really think we should check her out?"

Sam smirks, "It is a stronger lead than the one we're following now."

"Yeah, I guess you're right." Dean concedes after a moment. He slows and turns around. The Impala roars as it accelerates, taking them back to where everything started.

 

About an hour outside of Lawrence, Dean pulls over for them to change clothes and eat. They climb out of the Impala and grab their bag of spare clothes from the trunk. The diner welcomes them with the aroma of fresh cooked food and lemon scented cleaner. They sit in a booth in the corner, its red seats and off-white table, old, but tidy. Pictures and newspaper clipping are framed on the walls telling tales of the small town and its citizens' unimpressive accomplishments over the years.

A toddler sits in a high chair at the table diagonal from them, picking at his macaroni and watching them. Sam waves at the boy and he waves back. His dad sits, reading the morning paper and ignoring the child. A young waitress approaches to take their order.

"I'll take the cherry pie." Dean smiles up at her while she writes.

Sam frowns at the menu before saying, "I'll just have the house salad with ranch, thanks."

The young blonde picks up their menus and hurries off to place their orders. The little boy turns around to look at them again. This time the father notices and swats him with the newspaper, "Leave them alone, son." he orders and the boy goes back to staring at his food.

Dean shakes his head, "Sounds like our dad." he mumbles under his breath.

Sam nods in agreement then grabs the bag next to him, "I'm gonna' go change." He stands and makes his way to the bathroom.

Dean leans back and the booth creaks slightly. He taps his fingers on the table, boredom setting in. His eyes wander back to the son, slumped in his high chair, right hand playing with his fork. Dean recalls his childhood and John's instructions to be seen but not heard. To let the grownups do their work. The waitress walks over to the boy and picks him up. She glares down at the father, "James, you have to talk to him. The doctors say that’s why he doesn’t talk enough." she scolds. The boy holds onto her neck and buries his face in her hair. She sways slightly and talks sweetly to the boy. "What have you done today? Did you hear the train earlier? Loud isn't it?" she smiles as she holds him.

"Colleen, you spoil him. He needs to be a man." James answers without looking up from reading. She continues to talk and scowls at the father.

Dean watches silently, wishing his mother had been there to scold John for all the times he silenced Dean.

Sam returns and sits down across from him, phone in hand. He listens to the voice on the other end and looks confused. "Yeah, we're about an hour away. We just stopped to eat and change… Alright, got it. Thanks." he snaps the phone shut. "That was Stanley again. He said the police station called him to let him know they found Jamie in a park after receiving a report about a group of men following a young woman into a secluded area. When they arrived at the scene, she was standing over five bodies, wielding a knife, all of them covered in blood. They brought her in for questioning, but she is refusing to talk. Stanley told the cops he was sending us to investigate further."

"You think the guys were possessed?" Dean asks.

Sam shrugs, "That’s what Stanley made it sound like."

"Man, I don't like this. We barely know anything about her and yet we're rushing into this. Something just feels…off." Dean confesses.

"I know what you mean," Sam agrees. "But if there really are demons following this girl, we need to find out why and help her."

Dean nods, but says nothing. He stands and motions for Sam to hand him the bag of clothes. He walks to the bathroom to change, uncertainty dominating his thoughts.

 

The Impala pulls into Lawrence. Clouds hang lazily in the sky, blotting out sun and threatening rain. The old houses lined up in pretty little rows bring back memories, mostly to Dean. The brothers watch in silence as they pass through; partly out of remembrance, partly out of respect. They finally arrive at the quaint police station, donning their cheap suits. Sam arranges his hair and Dean straightens his tie, both uncomfortable with going into a complicated situation practically blind.

"You sure this is a good idea?" Dean asks doubtfully.

Sam leans back and sighs, "Honestly, I don't know."

Dean hands Sam his badge and tucks his own into the breast pocket of his jacket. He leads the way into the station and glances about the small establishment. Inside it smells of stale donuts, cheap cologne, and printer ink. Officers sit at their small desks typing reports, drinking coffee, chatting amongst themselves. The secretary, who sits picking at her bright red nails, looks up and smiles welcomingly, then more flirtatiously when she sees Dean. He walks to her, Sam following closely behind him. Dean leans against the desk and presents her with his fake badge and a charming smile. "Hi, I'm Agent Rudd and this is my partner Agent Young."

She flushes and tucks a stray strand of bottle-blonde hair behind her ear. "How can I help you gentlemen?"

Sam clears his throat. "We're here to speak with Jamie Smith." The secretary stares back blankly prompting Sam to continue, "You know, the girl that was attacked in the alley and found at a crime scene today?"

This information seems to jog her memory because she giggles and bats her false eyelashes at Dean, "Oh! Yes, our Jane Doe!"

Sam's face falters, "Jane Doe?" he questions, assuming the worst.

A burly office with his chest puffed up walks up to the secretary's desk. "I'm sorry," he says insincerely. "Who did you say you are?"

Dean tries, and fails, to resist the urge to roll his eyes at the man. The brothers flash their badges in synchronization, both bearing identical sarcastic smirks. 

"Well I'll be damned!" an older man with a big belly and a trimmed white beard exclaims as he approaches them. "Johnson, quit your bitchin’ and go sit down." he instructs the officer. "I'm Sheriff Rhodes. You must be the guys Agent Tyler sent. What can I do for ya?" he smiles widely at the boys.

"We're here to see your... uh- Jane Doe." Sam offers meekly. The sheriff nods, motioning for them to follow.

Dean falls into step with the sheriff, "So officer Johnson huh? Guy seems like a real dick." he smiles at his joke.

The sheriff laughs with him and claps his back. "Oh, you have no idea." They walk through the row of desks to the back of the station. "Long story short, we've had to start referring to our mystery gal as Jane Doe because it seems she only gives false names. She's got the fake IDs to prove it too. She's quite the stubborn broad, won't talk hardly at all. And when she does, it's mostly cursing." He leads them into the viewing side of an interrogation room, which contains only a table lined with bagged objects. On the opposite side is a wide window to where a girl sits, handcuffed to a table. She's slumped over, head down, her long hair fallen forward, covering her face. She breathes deeply and evenly, likely asleep.

Dean strolls to the table and examines some of the evidence laid out before him. "What am I looking at Sheriff?"

"That would be the contents of her backpack, the only things she had on her." he motions to a black, military grade backpack sealed in a clear, plastic evidence baggie.

Sam approaches and scans the table. "Mind if we have a look?" He asks.

"Go ahead," the sheriff answers. "Just use gloves if you take anything out of the bags. There's a box of them to your left."

The brothers each pull on a pair of latex gloves and begin shifting through the contents. Spread across one side of the table are her essentials. Soap, a toothbrush, toothpaste, a comb, socks, underwear, a few shirts, a pair of jeans, even a box of tampons. The other side has more questionable items. Two rolls of hundred dollar bills, numerous credit cards, a stack of fake IDs, an array of knives, a lock pick, a black glock, ammo, a bag of salt, several pouches of powerful spell ingredients, a lighter, and an eight by seven metal box, locked of course. The box draws their attention. Sam picks it up in its baggy and weighs it in his hand. He passes it to Dean, who shakes it and frowns afterwards. Sam throws him a curious glance.

"Sounds like some papers and something heavier inside." Dean comments. "She had all this on her?"

The sheriff hooks his thumbs through his belt loops. "Yep! What I don't understand is why she chose to fight those guys with a knife when she had a damn glock in her bag. Five guys about y'all's size approach a girl her size and you'd think she'd go for a gun. Hell, even I'd pick a gun before a knife."

"Where's the knife she used?" Sam asks.

The sheriff picks up a bagged knife tucked into a black sheath and hands it to Sam. Sam pulls it out and unsheathes it slowly. The blade is inscribed with the same markings as Ruby's knife. The brothers sigh together and exchange a worried glance.

"What?" The sheriff demands. "You seen that before or somethin'?"

Sam returns the knife to the table and pulls off his gloves. "We've seen a knife like it before, yes. And, unfortunately, it looks like this case may have just turned federal. We're going to have to talk to the girl to be sure though."

The sheriff looks disappointed, "Well, you can try. She’s tough, and probably won't give you anything. We've been questioning her for the past hour and half, but you’re welcome to have a go at her. And let me know as soon as you can if this case falls into your jurisdiction." 

"Will do." Dean says. "And, uh, would you mind turning off the camera to the interrogation room? We don’t want any sensitive information getting out if she is involved in our case." He smiles to reassure the sheriff.

The old man laughs then stops when the boys don’t laugh with him. "You sure that’s alright? Seems sort of immoral to me."

Sam shakes his head and mimics Dean's smile, "We do this a lot, it's standard procedure. She won't be harmed, I can assure you."

The sheriff looks from Sam to Dean and back again. Finally he nods without a word and flips a switch on the wall by the door, then exits. Sam and Dean follow suit and enter the interrogation room wordlessly. The click of the door wakes the young woman, causing her to stir.

She inhales deeply and yawns. "I thought I was clear before, I'm not going to tell you ignorant assholes anyth-" She stops talking when she looks up to see the brothers standing at the table, peering down at her expectantly. Her bloodshot eyes widen, "Dean… Sam… How did you find me?" she asks, shocked.

"A friend told us about you, a certain friend you happened to run from." Dean accuses.

"Well, a girl can never be too careful. Especially when a strange man shows up out of nowhere and starts asking questions. I ran to keep myself alive." She narrows her eyes at him and observes his physique.

"How do you know us?" Sam leans forward with his palms on the table. She swallows and her eyes dart to the camera in the corner of the room.

"It's off." Dean informs her.

She sighs and puts her head in her hands. "I know plenty about you. You're the infamous Winchesters. I mean what hunter doesn't know you guys?" She laughs to herself. "Wow, this is not how I imagined meeting you." she mutters.

"What was that?" Dean says insolently.

"I said I wasn’t expecting this, okay?" she lifts her head and runs her fingers through her caramel hair. "I need your help. You guys get me out of here and I'll tell you everything. The demons, how I know so much about you, who I am… Everything. Just get me out of here. Please." her eyes are pleading as she glances between them.

Finally Sam sighs. "Alright."

"Alright?" Dean asks. "We don’t know anything about her Sam! We don’t even know her name!"

"Mary. My name's Mary." she says quietly.

The brothers are silent, then Dean rushes forward, grabbing the collar of her shirt. "You think that's funny? You think this is some kind of joke?" he spits.

"Dean!" Sam yells.

Mary, unafraid, leans toward him with a hostile look on her face. "This isn't a joke, Dean." she replies bitterly. He reluctantly lets her go and steps back. She straightens her navy and green plaid shirt then leans back in her chair, arms crossed defensively.

"I'll go talk to the sheriff. Grab her things," he says to Sam. He looks back at Mary, "Get ready, cause you’ve got a lot of shit to explain." The door slams behind him.

Sam stares at the exit then down at Mary. "I'm sorry. He's not usually like that. I'll be back in a minute." She doesn't reply. Just sits with a sour expression on her face. He leaves the room and goes to the viewing side. He grabs a cardboard box from under the table and starts piling Mary's belongings into it. Once everything's situated inside, he picks up the box and pulls the door open with one hand. Dean stands just outside the door, wrapping up his explanation to the sheriff.

"Thanks again man," he says. "And sorry for taking your suspect."

The sheriff shrugs. "That’s usually what the feds do when they're involved. Bigger cases need bigger badges, I get it. I'll grab her right quick for ya." Dean smiles unconvincingly at the man before turning back to Sam.

"Dude, what was that?" Sam asks.

Dean closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Last night," he pauses, as if trying to decide if he should continue. "I had a dream about mom. It's still fresh in my mind; I guess her saying that just set me off. You heard her. She knows a lot about us. It's like she taunting us, using mom's name and all."

Sam nods understandingly. "Just take it easy, okay?"

The door next to them opens and the sheriff steps out with Mary. "Y'all want her handcuffed still?"

Sam shakes his head, "No thanks. We can handle her from here."

The sheriff looks unsure, but unlocks the cuffs without a word. Dean grabs her upper arm, a little too firmly, and pulls her along with him. Leaving the station, the flustered secretary smiles at Dean who doesn't acknowledge her. He shoulders open the door, not bothering to hold it for Sam and Mary. Sam catches the door with his free hand so it doesn’t hit them. Once they reach the impala, Dean releases her and walks to the driver's seat. Mary watches him silently as she walks to the rear passenger door and opens it so Sam can place her belongings inside.

"He hates me already," she says in quiet disbelief.

"What?" Sam questions out of reflex, even though he heard her.

She shakes her head. "Nothing."

Sam grabs her arm and speaks in a low voice, "Why are you worried about what he thinks?"

Mary picks her words carefully. "I need help. I'm starting to get desperate and if he hates me, then I might as well give up and let them take me."

"Who?" Sam inquires. She shakes her head and climbs into the back seat without saying anything. Sam shuts her door and gets in too. Dean starts driving and no one speaks. Zeppelin plays in the background and Mary sings along faintly after a while. When the album ends and silence fills the car, Sam clears his throat. "Where are we going?"

"That old burger joint off of I-70 that dad used to take us to. I'm starving and could really go for a bacon cheeseburger." Dean answers. It’s quiet for a moment, then he continues. "So, what do you want with us?" He and Mary make eye contact in the rear view mirror for a moment, then he looks back at the road.

"Well, for starters, I need to know more about the demons following me," she tells them.

"Following you? Well what about your parents? Where are they?" Sam asks her.

"My mother is dead. My dad's on the road somewhere." she says unemotionally.

"Great," Dean says unenthusiastically. Sam gives him a chastising glance, which he ignores. "Call him up, we'll deal with the demons then meet him halfway somewhere and he can take you with him."

She laughs bitterly. "You know, I wish I could but I can't just call him, okay? He doesn’t know I exist." She sighs and leans against the door. "You can drop me off at the nearest truck stop. Forget I ever bothered you."

Sam jumps in, "We aren't just going to leave you."

"I'll be fine. I've been hunting since I was eleven. I think I can handle hitch hiking," she states matter-of-factly.

Sam blinks in surprise and Dean barely manages to hide his shock. "Eleven?" Sam says in disbelief.

"Exorcised my first demon then. Killed my first vampire at thirteen. I can take care of myself," she explains.

Dean snorts, "I'm sure you can." Mary glares. He pulls the car into the diner parking lot and kills the engine. They all get out and start walking to the door. "When was the last time you ate?" Dean inquires.

It takes a second for Mary to realize the question was directed at her. "Oh, me? It was… uh, Monday evening." She answers nonchalantly.

Sam stops in his tracks. "Today's Wednesday."

Mary shrugs and looks at the ground, kicking a chunk of pavement into the drab shrubbery surrounding the building. Dean stands watching her. Mary's response brings back memories of the nights he spent without food, giving Sam the last of it so he wouldn't be hungry. Before Dean resorted to stealing food. Before he realized John would rather finish a hunt, than leave early for them. Before Dean knew that John wanted revenge more than he loved Sam and Dean. He could feel his bitterness toward her crumbling, being replaced by empathy. He puts his hand on her back and gently pushes her toward the front door. She reluctantly allows herself to be guided and pulls the door open for them. It dings a bell hanging above it and a middle-aged waitress with a messy ponytail greets them with a pleasant expression.

"Table for three?" she asks.

Sam nods and she leads them to a clean booth. The faded walls are covered in black and white photographs of early fast food restaurants. Each table is a different color, some yellow, red, pink, blue. The Drifters' "There Goes My Baby" plays quietly through the joint giving it a classic 50's feel. Dean sits immediately and Sam gestures for Mary to take a seat opposite of Dean. "I'm going to run to the bathroom real fast, okay?"

Neither of them say anything, so Sam nods awkwardly and walks away, brow furrowed.

"Why haven't you eaten since Monday?" Dean says once Sam's out of earshot.

Mary pulls a silver flask out of her jacket pocket. She unscrews the cap and downs several swallows, grimacing slightly at the burn of the liquor. She holds the container out, offering him a drink. He snatches it from her hands, takes a decent sized swig, and passes it back to her. He eyes her as she returns it back to its hiding place. "I can't pay for anything. And I don't know the town well enough yet to know where it's easy to shoplift. What little money I do have is for emergencies only."

Dean's jaw flexes and he leans forward putting his elbows on to the worn, yellow table. "Don’t you think starving counts as an emergency?"

She looks up at him, cocky grin on her face. "I've had worse."

He stares at her for a while before nodding. "Still. Food should be a priority. Hunger, and I mean real hunger, is a whole new kind of pain. But I'm sure you know that, don’t you?" She unwraps her silverware and plays with the cheap napkin. "You have blood on you." Dean points out. He grabs the napkin from her hands and motions for her to move closer. She does so, hesitantly. He wipes once along her hairline, then again, more tenderly after she winces slightly. He manages to clean the sticky blood away then stops. She looks at him as he stares evenly at her. "You've seen some serious shit, haven't you?" he asks softly. She doesn’t say anything but her eyes tell him she has.

"What'd I miss?" Sam says, interrupting their moment. He sits down next to Mary and she slides over in the seat to make room for him. Before either of them could think of a witty response, the waitress approached.

"What can I get you guys?" she pulls out a pen and a little notebook.

"I'll have a water and a grilled chicken sandwich," Sam smiles. She jots it down quickly.

"And I'll take a coke and the bacon cheese burger with extra onions," Dean says. The waitress scribbles his order then looks at Mary expectantly.

"Oh, it’s okay I'll just-" She starts but Dean interrupts.

"She'll have the same as me. Thanks," he says to the waitress. She goes to put their order in.

"I can't pay you back," Mary says.

Dean shifts in the seat, "Don't worry about it, you need to eat." The waitress returns, setting their drinks in front of them. When she leaves Dean continues, "So, why were you named Mary? Is that even your real name?"

Mary looks surprised by his questions as her brow creases. "Yes it's my real name. And you two are probably the only ones still alive that know it." She continues, "Honestly, I'm not one hundred percent sure why I was named Mary. I just know that’s what Sister Catherine told me."

"Sister Catherine? Like a nun?" Sam assumes.

Mary sips her coke and nods. "Yeah. Like I said earlier, my mom's dead. She had me when she was really young. She tried to care for me but gave up after a couple months or so. She dropped me on the steps of a catholic church in Amarillo with my birth certificate and left town. They took me to an orphanage and Sister Catherine was charged with my care. She searched for my dad first, but he's like a ghost. No one could find him. By the time they found my mom, she was dying in the hospital. She wrote down what she knew about my dad. Now here I am. Searching for someone who doesn’t want to be found."

Sam and Dean were quiet, taking in all the information they were just told. Sam speaks first. "What's your dad do?"

"He's a hunter." Mary answers plainly.

Dean puts his coke down and tilts his head in thought. "Is that why you hunt?"

Mary ponders this for a moment. "Partly. I started after Sister Catherine watched a little girl who was possessed attack me on the playground. She exorcised her and after that began training me in what she knew about demons. She worked in Europe when she was young, handling more extreme cases of possession. By ten, I knew how to exorcise, trap, and kill demons. For my eleventh birthday she gave me Sister Merida's knife, the one that slays demons. I think the bastards following me are trying to capture me so they can use me against my father. I guess he really pissed them off." She explains. The waitress approaches with their food. She sets the plates in front of them and asks if they need anything else. They shake their heads and she leaves again. Mary dives into her plate, groaning when she takes her first bite. Dean watches, amused by her expression. "This is heaven." she smiles, examining her cheeseburger. They eat for a few minutes, Mary finishing quickly.

"Do you have any idea where your dad is? Maybe we can help you find him." Sam suggests.

Mary wipes her hands on a napkin. "I know exactly where he is, I just found him recently. But I don’t think it's a good idea for me to tell him I'm his kid."

"What? Why not?" Sam asks bewildered.

"It's not hard to tell when you'll be unwanted," she sighs.

Sam and Dean gape at her in astonishment. "You need to tell him." Dean instructs. "You can't hide from him forever just because you think he won't want you. Who knows? He may surprise you."

"I know if I had a daughter, I'd want to know. I mean, yeah things would change. Like I'd probably be more cautious, but we also grew up without a mom and our dad was gone a lot. I would never want my kid to go through that." Sam reveals.

"That’s the thing," she remarks. "I don't want him to have to change just because I come into the picture."

Dean nods, understanding. "You still need to tell him. Seriously. All hunters wish they had a family, don’t take that from him."

She studies him for a moment, "You're sure?" she whispers, not trusting her voice.

"I'm positive." he insists as he swipes a fry through ketchup and pops it into his mouth.

She glances at Sam, "Can you let me out? I need to use the restroom."

"Sure." he responds around a mouthful of food. He stands and she slides out of the booth.

She pauses for a moment gazing at them, "Thanks guys, really." she smiles. She walks to the bathrooms; face hard and emotionless except for the single tear that rolls down her freckled cheek.

Sam peers at his brother, "She's kind of messed up, like us, isn't she?"

Dean sighs, "Yeah. I think you're right."

They sit, picking at their food for a few minutes before Sam slows his eating. "I wonder what's taking her so long."

Dean shrugs then freezes. They make eye contact as the realization strikes them both. Dean stands swiftly, and walks to the ladies room door. He knocks softly, "Mary?" Silence. "Mary!" he says more urgently this time. He tries the doorknob and finds it unlocked. He pushes the door open and steps inside the single-person bathroom. A gentle breeze brushes his face and Sam appears behind him. They stare at the broken window, floral curtains fluttering, then turn quickly and leave the building. Outside Dean yells "Mary!" more loudly this time. A raspy chuckle sounds behind him. They spin around to see an old trucker leaning against the building, cigarette in hand. He takes another drag off of it and blows the smoke at them.

"Your girlfriend is gone, man," he snickers. Dean's composure snaps and he shoves him up against the wall, forearm pressed against the man's throat.

"Where is she?" Dean growls.

The man chokes for air and Dean lets up slightly so he can speak, "I-I don’t know which way they went, okay? She came out from around back and started sweet-talking some guy out here smoking by me. She convinced him to give her a ride." he stutters timorously.

"What was he driving?" Sam interrogates.

"Uh- a blue Ford pick-up. An older one." he manages.

Dean pushes himself away from the man and paces with his hands on his hips. "Did you pay?" he asks after a moment.

"Yeah, I left money on the table." Sam replies. "What're we going to do?" he wonders aloud.

"Did she take her bag?" Dean walks over to the impala and glances at the back seat. It's empty.

Sam curses. "Should we call Cas?" he offers up.

Dean stands by the impala thinking. Finally he shakes his head. "No, Cas has bigger things to worry about. If she's half the hunter she thinks she is, I'm sure she'll be fine." he says, not sure if he's trying to reassure himself or Sam.

An idea strikes Sam, "You think she left to find her dad?"

Dean's shoulders slowly relax. "Maybe. I hope so. God, I hope so."

"I know Dean. I don’t like the thought of her being out there on her own either. But it sounds like she's been doing it for a while now. I'm sure she'll be fine," he says, doubt still in his mind.

They get in the car and sit for a minute. "I feel like there's something she wasn't telling us. She knows something we don't." Dean confesses.

Sam observes his brother, a concerned look on his face. "Why the sudden change in heart?"

Dean is motionless for a while before sighing. "I don’t know man. I guess she sort of reminds me of myself when I was her age, you know? No mom, an… an absent father, always on the lookout, rebellious, hell she even sang every word to my favorite Zeppelin songs."

"We'll find her again." Sam says hopefully.

Dean licks his lips and fires up the impala. "Still wanna check out that werewolf case in Nebraska?" he asks.

"Sure." Sam answers.

They pull out of the diner parking lot and head north, preparing themselves for a long, quiet drive alone with their thoughts. The waitress watches the impala drive away and walks back to their table. She pockets the generous tip and starts clearing away the dishes. She stops when she sees a bloody napkin crumpled beside an empty plate. She glances about the diner before tucking the napkin into her apron. She smiles, her eyes flashing black.

"Oh sweet Mary, who's going to save you now?" 


End file.
